Problems Solved
by MyMadness
Summary: It had been a horrible week. There'd been two long court hearings and three hours of meetings with the station lawyer. Mary would be collected on her contempt charge that night. Could this really turn out better than it had started? L/M Briefly M in ch 3
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is all based on the Season 5 Episode, Will Mary Richards Go to Jail?_

_I am not sure how many chapters I will divide this into. One will contain brief M-ness and at that point (when I post that) I suppose I will up the rating.  
><em>

_This episode is posted on YouTube!  
><em>

_Thank you, Sel, for the help. You are so brave._

/ / / /

It had been a horrible week.

Once it became quite obvious that the Department of Justice was serious about getting the source out of Mary, no one cared about the scoop that had started it all.

The week brought them two long court hearings and three hours of meetings with the station lawyer. For most of it Lou had been there at her side, supportive and perhaps a bit sullen. On Friday the final ruling was handed down. The judge had given Mary the weekend to reconsider her refusal to divulge her source.

But even that time was now gone. It was Monday evening suddenly. And although she could hardly believe this was actually happening to her, Mary would be collected from her apartment on her contempt charge within the hour.

To make matters worse, Mary's original plan to wait for her fate alone, and as bravely as possible, had been thwarted. Rather than let Sue Ann thrust herself on her as her sole company, Mary had consented to having folks from the office over.

Mary only wished to God that the company of her friends had not prompted Sue Ann to turn tonight into an incarceration-themed fete. But, Mary thought to herself, sanity and a hint of understanding in Sue Ann was probably not something she should have wasted a wish on.

/ / / / / /

"Mary."

That was all Mr. Grant said. But it got her attention immediately. He walked toward her quite purposely then from his self-imposed exile at the edge of her apartment. And he had her now, lightly and imploringly, by the arm.

Mary handed off the party-themed tin cup she was holding to a surprised looking Sue Ann. She began to walk then in the direction Lou was indicating with the slight tilt of his head.

She found herself in her kitchen with the door closed and the wooden panels pulled together. Lou only looked at the floor as they stood together. Still, he was able to reach unerringly to take hold of her hand. He stepped in closer then and brought their hands up to his chest. It was a gallant, old fashioned, and slightly awkward gesture. And she had to smile at it because it was so very, very Lou.

He let up a small, anguished sort of noise then, and Mary instinctively laid a hand to his cheek. She tried to get him to raise his head and meet her eyes.

"You aren't still sick?" she asked. She passed her hand over his face as if assessing his temperature.

"Just worried sick. I don't want you to go," he said, his voice strangely weak.

"I'm not pleased about it myself," she tried to joke.

He still had not released her other hand from where he clutched it to his chest. And she squeezed his hand now, needing the strength he offered.

"Oh, Mary. How did all this happen?" He did drop her hand then, but only so he could pull her into him. The hug started out a tad rough, but quickly turned comfortable as he eased the almost fierce grip he had on her and began to stroke her back.

"What happened to Lou 'I'm not a hugger' Grant?"

Mary had offered up her quip because she thought there would be some unease to the situation that she would need to smooth over. But as she relaxed and leaned against him, she came to realize there was no unease suddenly at all. She pulled in a little tighter then, welcoming the comfort he offered. It was a relief to be alone with him, she realized. He was that one person she could show her fears to. Finally, she gave herself permission to let go of what was left of her brave act, and she turned her head to rest it at his shoulder.

"You smell good," he whispered in a voice not quite his own.

She rubbed against his suit coat then and registered the soap and laundry starch. And the masculine after shave. All those things that made this Lou Grant. "Hmmm," she told him sounding content. "You too."

He pulled back from her as if feeling guilty or embarrassed. "I don't want to complicate things, but I have to get this off my chest. I don't know what it is about this whole sorry mess. If it's the injustice of it. My guilt that it is you that's going. Or if it's how proud I am of you and how scared I know you must be. But..."

"But what?" she asked. She tugged at his jacket now as she spoke to cajole a response from him.

He didn't answer, and she began to scrutinize him. There was something in his eyes, she thought. A sort of worry or a question. Not just over her going to jail, but over this - them. Now.

And she was right. Standing there, looking at her, Lou was asking himself if he even understood what was happening. Because it seemed to him as if the woman who had always been his young office protege or the damsel in distress had spent the last few minutes burrowing into his embrace.

And it also occurred to him that the man who thought he was too old, too smart, or too ordinary to risk something like this was about to kiss her.

Lou telegraphed the move with the tilt to his head, the part to his lips. He leaned to her so slowly she could have stopped him. The gentleman in him was giving her that out.

But she didn't stop him. She most definitely allowed him to kiss her.

They eased apart without a word to each other. Seeming worse for the wear, Lou quickly stepped even further back to lean against her counter. "God, Mary. Say something. Are you angry with me? Disappointed? What?"

"No. I'm... I dunno! For right now I am just putting it all down to the madness of the moment, adrenaline ... Serendipity?"

He laughed in spite of the tense emotion in him. There were times when her word choice resembled Jiminy Crickets' more than anything else. And he had grown to find it endearing. God knows, he would never admit such a thing to anyone else though.

Her expression seemed to change as she stood there contemplating him.

"What is it, Mary?"

"Just..." she began before she gave up.

And she stepped over and kissed him quite purposely, as if on a mission to get the answer to something. She kissed him for the longest time. She may have sighed then as she pulled away.

"You know," she told him, "You really are wonderful at that."

"It comes down to who you are with," he told her simply.

She wanted to ponder that. But she knew she needed to tell him they had to stop whatever it was that was happening. They could not take the time to try to figure this out. Not right now.

They needed to rejoin what was supposedly a party and wait for the agent from the DOJ to arrive.

But she didn't manage to tell Lou anything. They were frozen there. A foot apart. Looking at each other and then away again.

Ted's knock made Mary jump further from her boss. Lou turned away to face the wall as if worried his expression would betray him to even the self-absorbed anchor man.

"Mary!" Ted whispered harshly, as he poked his head through the swinging door. "The Feds are here. He brought one of those tough chicks ... From the big house. You know. A prison matron."

… … ...

Everyone said their 'goodbyes' while Lou held back, looking uncomfortable. He bolted forward then as she turned for the door with her hands cuffed awkwardly in front of her.

He took her hands in his and gave them a single squeeze. "You know," he said, cryptically, in a hedging, grumbling sort of voice.

"Yeah," Mary replied, managing a smile. "I think, maybe I do."

Lou smiled as best he could. And leaned in to kiss her chastely on the cheek.

"It'll be okay. I'll see you tomorrow. I'll get you out," he promised.

"Right," she said, trying to sound confident.

But Lou could see how uneasy she was.

And that was a hard thing for him to see.


	2. Chapter 2

/

Mary was surprised and happy to see a familiar form walking toward her cell the next morning. She knew he had promised he would come, but she'd been told there wouldn't be any visitors allowed to the cells.

"Lou," she said quietly, as he was let through. She smiled as she realized there was no awkwardness over using his first name at long last. But then, he had been 'Lou' in her thoughts since yesterday evening.

"How did you..." she had to ask.

"Contacts. Favors. You know," he said quietly with a shrug.

"And you are using up your favors on me?"

"I promised," he simply said.

They stepped over to her bunk to talk. "Can I ask you about yesterday?" she ventured.

It wasn't just being in a jail cell that made Lou reluctant to discuss things. There was also the problem of Mary's cell mates. "Let's talk about it when I get you out of here in a few..." he began.

"I just want to talk about it enough to know if it was... Just one of those things," she whispered tensely.

"It was not 'just' anything. It was definitely a 'something.'" He stammered then. "Unless what _**you**_ want is for it to have been 'just one of those things.' "

"No," she told him, "a 'something' is good." Mary stroked his arm as if to allay any worries.

A moment later, however, she found herself backing away in response to the "Awww," that both Sherry and Kim uttered.

"What?" Lou demanded of the two call girls as he spun around.

"I dunno what's happening," Sherry explained in her raspy twang. "Just that it's awfully cute."

"Awfully, awfully cute," Kim concurred. "Especially for a guy your age."

"Sheesh," a flustered Lou muttered. Sounding rushed and uncomfortable now, he tried again to speak to Mary. "The lawyer's filing papers and getting your bail set. We'll have you out of here this afternoon. Really."

"Okay," Mary said, nodding and forcing a brave smile.

He looked to the bars and saw the matron had returned to end their impromptu visit.

Lou sneaked a quick kiss to Mary's cheek then and ducked out the door the disapproving guard was holding.

/ / / / / / /

Late that afternoon he met Mary as she finished out-processing from the holding area. He moved as if he would scoop her up when she rounded the barrier separating them. But seeming to think better of such a display, he merely reached to take her hand then. His arm came around her as they walked from the building.

Mary decided to launch into the problem between them once they were in his car. "So, you only kissed me because I was going to jail?" she asked without preamble.

"I asked myself if that was it. But then I realized that this has been coming. Something was bound to happen that made me finally realize who you are to me. And what I wanted to do about it."

"You've told me before that ... Well, you've made me feel like you thought of me as being so young. Needing protection, being like a child..."

He cut her off. "I had to say things like that, Mary. I had to at least try to convince myself that that's who you were. I couldn't believe the attraction I began to feel for you would be welcomed. And I'll admit that before all this happened, I still sometimes saw you as that young, naive girl that came to me looking for a job. I was blind to this amazing woman you've become. This amazing newswoman," he told her, earning a smile.

She let him park the car at her building before she continued her questions. "So," she said with a teasing lilt to her voice. "Me getting a scoop and then having the Justice Department after me was some sort of turn on? Enough of a turn on that you were willing to forget what you used to think about me?"

"Don't make this seem weirder than it is," he begged.

"But?" she insisted, as she poked him in the ribs.

"Okay! _**But...**_ You are incredibly hot when you are taking charge of things. And then when you ended up in trouble over the story, I just wanted to be that man that got you through it. Who fixed it. Who held your hand when you were scared or kissed you when you were crying."

"Hey, I didn't do that much crying," she objected strongly.

"You were great. Maybe that was just a fantasy on my part," he amended. "I am just trying to tell you, I've wanted to kiss you all week. But I know I have probably blind sided you. Complicated everyth..."

"Shhh," she told him. "I don't mind that you kissed me. It was wonderful. _**You**_ are wonderful. I've always wanted you to see me as a grown up. As a real woman, an equal."

"But you didn't actually want me to kiss you."

"I didn't _**not **_want you to kiss me."

He shook his head, feeling no less confused about where things stood despite all the talk.

They got out of his car without any more said between them. He felt awkward at best as he followed her, carrying her case as they walked up the stairs to her apartment.

"I'm beat and I'm sore," she told him, sounding apologetic once they were inside her place. "I really need to lie down."

"You probably didn't sleep well last night."

"Not well at all," she agreed.

"I didn't sleep very well, either," he admitted.

She smiled and shook her head at him. "God, you're sweet," she finally said.

He pulled out the bed for her. She groaned and sunk to the covers as soon as he was finished. Cautiously then, he moved to sit next to her, and once he was settled, he began to rub her back. "Thanks," she told him. "For everything." She kissed him on the cheek and crawled past him to stretch out on the bed.

"Could I get more of that back rub?" she said hopefully, as she looked at him over her shoulder. He lay down behind her then, propping his head up with one hand and using the other to massage the muscles in her back.

"We are comfortable together, Lou," she told him without looking at him. "Even the physical part. It isn't that frantic, nervous sort of thing. It was a surprise when you kissed me, but then again, now that it's happened, it doesn't seem like such a big surprise at all."

"I'm just glad you aren't mad at me." He patted her shoulder then before he looked at his watch. "God, I'm sorry, Mary. I need to get back to work. Can I come back? Check on you later?" Lou asked.

"Sure. I'm going to shower and probably just go back to bed. Why don't you take my spare key from the hook in the kitchen, that way you won't have to try to wake me up to get me to answer the door."

/ / / / / /

When he returned, his knocks went unanswered, so he keyed himself in. Her place was nearly dark. He carefully picked his way across the floor toward her bed while he called her name.

He stopped for a second to rethink what he was doing. What was he hoping would happen? And he realized he didn't really know, not beyond wanting to see her.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I am happy with this... so happy that it almost pains me that it is going to be buried, unseen here in MTM Show M-rated land.

Thanks for reading. Do let me know if you found this.

/ / / / / /

When he returned, his knocks went unanswered. So, he keyed himself in. Her place was nearly dark. He carefully picked his way across the floor toward her bed while he called her name.

He stopped for a second to rethink what he was doing. What was he hoping would happen? And he realized he didn't really know, not beyond wanting to see her.

"Is it late?" came her groggy question.

"Almost 8."

"Are you hungry, Lou?"

"No."

He knew if he had said 'yes' she would have gotten out of bed to find him something, and he didn't want that.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked then, as he got down on one knee at her bedside.

"Good... But, if I'm not getting up, do you want to get in? Come lie down and talk to me." Mary smiled as she said it. Trying to make these unaccustomed things seem ordinary and unfrightening.

His coat came off first. Now, he kicked off his shoes and pulled a little more at his already loosened tie. But then he surprised her by getting into bed dressed like that.

She refrained from making any comment. Things between them were too new and fragile to tease him over something like this. But it did seem odd to her that a man would climb into bed still wearing his tie.

"Mary, let me rub your back some more."

She rolled over, not because her back was particularly sore, but because she needed his hands on her suddenly, and this was the least awkward way to have it happen. As he touched her, she thought, perhaps, he had had the same motivations and the same solution.

"I've been thinking about you," she told him as her eyes fell closed. The thoughts and words came easier now in the dark with him there behind her.

"Good? Bad? Or just ordinary and commonplace?" His voice had taken on something of the rhythm of his hands.

A quick laughed bubbled out of her. "Nothing commonplace or ordinary."

He eased his hand up under her pajama top then, as if her answer had encouraged him.

"Oh, Lou, that feels good."

"My hands are warm enough?"

"Mmmm. Yes." He was working at her shoulders, and she suddenly felt like a cat gone limp in a pool of sunlight. He scratched lightly down her spine then. "It's not how warm your hands are. Not just that." She slowly rolled over then to face him. "It is the package deal, you know. You're someone I enjoy. Who I trust and care about. And you are someone who I know cares about me."

The kisses that happened then seemed to begin by mutual agreement. They were slow, decadent kisses. Their mouths lingered against one another as they finished.

"I've been thinking about you," she said again, her words buzzing against his lips.

And he knew by saying that again she was inviting him, encouraging him to touch her.

He put his hand under her shirt to stroke her sides. And the prevalent thought thudding through him was that they were crossing another line now, quite clearly. The earlier kisses and his hands on her back had been lovely. But comfortable. Almost innocent.

This, his hands skimming just below her breasts, was fueled by want.

He stopped his touches and in something like slow motion, reached for the buttons down her chest.

This, now, was another line to cross, they both knew. Mary felt his hesitation. And in answer, she did more than give him permission. She flicked the last three buttons herself and pulled her top off swiftly.

She froze then. And that made him worry that she was rethinking her bravery. He would not allow her any nerves, not for a moment. His strong arm reached around her to pull her closer, and he kissed at her neck and shoulders.

The seams and buttons on his clothing created a strange wash of feelings as they were dragged across her. Why, she wondered, would he not remove his own shirt or at least his tie? He was not a terribly vain man. That couldn't be it.

"There's time," he told her in answer to her tugs at his shirt.

He kissed from her collar bone to the swell of her breast before he stopped. She could sense something, some thought had made him pull up short.

She ran her hand sweetly through the hair above his ears before she whispered, "What is it, what's wrong?"

"Are we going to be all right tomorrow?"

She paused. Panicked a moment. "Are you telling me this is only tonight?"

"No! No, God, no," he said as he pulled himself up so he was face to face with her. "I just want to know if we are going to ruin our friendship over this. Are we still going to be able to work together?"

She petted at him, kissed him over and over before she answered. She was unwilling to let the sensual mood be ruined by their serious talk. "We've been friends so long, if anybody can pull off the dreaded workplace romance, it's us."

He moved over her again, but his pace was maddeningly slow. She was pushing back, arching to demand more.

"Please," she groaned.

Lou tried to shush her. He kissed and teased at her skin more intensely now. But it wasn't enough.

"I've been thinking about you." This was the third time she'd said this. And this time she took his hand to guide it down her body... To slip it past her waist band.

Finally, he thought he understood what she was trying say... what it all meant... now that his fingers had dipped to find her wet and ready. If he could believe it, she had been wanting him all this time.

The new sound to his voice thrilled her then when it came to her. She could tell that touching her affected him. "Tell me what you want. Please," he rasped. He wanted direction, she knew. He had to be assured that she wanted this, wanted him. That she would not regret him.

"Make love to me," she said with as much surety as she could manage. Then she pulled at his shirt and his pants, "Take these off," she pleaded.

But what he did was pull the silky bottoms from her slowly. His lips kissing along the skin he revealed.

_Good God,_ her thoughts flew. This man was dangerous and unexpected. Thrilling and disarming. And, as of this moment, so completely in control.

Mary was no hapless virgin. She'd had everything from one night stands to long term relationships. And never had she had a fully clothed man tongue and kiss and nip his way down her body. At the words 'make love to me' most men would have taken 30 seconds to push into her.

But Lou was no other man. She was beginning to completely understand that.

Perhaps, she thought, keeping his clothes on was like having emotional armor. This was a passionate man who wanted her in a way beyond just the physical, she sensed. But he was wounded. Was he acting guarded? Perhaps being cast off by Edie had taken that much of a toll on him. On his heart and on his confidence.

Maybe this, staying dressed, gives him some feeling of control, she wondered? Maybe what he wants is just a little distance. A little more time.

He took her hand from where it skimmed across his neck and kissed her palm with aching slowness. Then he twined his fingers with hers in a gesture so intimate that Mary gasped.

She was wrong. Blind, she thought, suddenly.

Because it was the way that he was making love to her that meant something... not his refusal to take off his clothes. Could he be like this with her - so fervent and attentive – if there was not a well of emotion behind it?

She had to wonder then, had he fallen in love with her?

It was not a prerequisite for her that a man be in love with her before she took him to bed. Certainly, she did not need Lou to feel that for her in order to sleep with him. She knew this man cared for her as a friend. That he respected for her. That was enough, she told herself. Why would she press him for his secrets?

But irrationally, tonight, she needed to know. She squeezed at his hands. Called him up to her. She kissed him chastely to calm them both and then asked him before the courage left her, "Are you in love with me?"

"I could fall in love with you so easily." That much he would admit. He ducked his head to avoid the silence. And then he asked, "Mary? Could you ever love me?"

She didn't answer blithely. Instead, she considered him. Her boss. Her friend. Her lover now. His face inches from hers. His tie ridiculously draped between her breasts.

"I'm lousy at this..."

"Letting men down easily?" he wondered.

"No! Relationships. Letting myself invest."

"But?"

"But, I think I could. I thought about you the whole time I was in that cell. All of today, I've lain here and asked myself what I hope for from you. And I _**can**_ see myself falling in love with you. But I'm just warning you..."

He had heard what he needed to, what he had never hoped to hear. And nothing else she could say mattered. So, he kissed her then to stifle her rambling words, if not her thoughts.

But she persisted. "... I make a mess of these things," she struggled to say against his lips. "Worse than my parties." He chuckled and kissed her neck. But again, she spoke up. "... I do the wrong things. I say the wrong things. I hold back when I should..."

"You talk too much? You sure that isn't the problem?" Lou kidded.

But, he knew how to silence her. He nuzzled at her breasts before suckling insistently. Her words fell away. She groaned and stiffened beneath him. Arching.

He knew to pull back as the sensations began to overwhelm her. And he saw her heave a sigh and then relax.

As she caught her breath - as the world ceased it's swimming - she felt his touch light and feathery between her legs. She hummed her welcome and eased her thighs apart.

"More?" he questioned.

"Not yet," she sighed.

Gentle kisses fell across her stomach as he stroked her. And he registered the faint rise of her hips when it began.

"More?" he asked and in that same moment her plea came.

"Be inside me?" And his fingers moved to answer her need.

_Oh, Lord, he understood, _she thought as he touched her.

He most definitely understood a woman's orgasms, a distant part of her brain was trying to tell her... what they were, what they might require.

Or maybe he just knew her.

She let up a small whine as she pushed her hips to him. And he kissed her then - there between her legs. Slowly, over and over. As she began to pant, he heard in it, 'S_o close so close so close. Please.'_ And his tongue moved to drive her undone.

Sharp and quick, she came. But his fingers stayed, patient and deep. He was hoping for the full, the round and enveloping, petit mort he was sure waited to be coaxed from her.

… … …

Eventually, she floated back, warm and limp. He lay on his side next to her. There was a kiss to her forehead that provoked her weak smile, and she felt him pull the blankets over her.

Carefully and quietly, he move from the bed until he stood beside it.

"Lou?" she questioned.

"Shhh," he told her. And he tugged his tie clear off at last before he smiled down at her. The rest of his clothes came off then and landed on the chair behind him.

She lifted the covers and made a happy noise as he slid into bed beside her.

Finally granted the expanse of his skin, she ran her hands over him as if to learn him. She paused at the scars she found. Traced them gently. "From the shrapnel?" she guessed, thinking of the operation he had had two years previous.

"That's the worst of it there," he told her, his hand slowly guiding hers. "Then there is this one," he said sweeping her hand along his flank.

She felt ridiculous. But she hurt for him as if he had suffered those wounds yesterday. "Any more?"

"Here," he told her, helping her trace the series of marks across his thigh. "Barb wire. It's far easier to get into than out of."

"How did you get..."

"The barb wire seemed preferable to getting shot," he mused.

She made a hurt sounding noise and hugged him tighter.

"You want to cry over one, here," he told her. He had her fingers trace a thin scar that ran under his chin. "Crashed my bike when I was 12. It was a complete loss." And that was so like him, she realized, to turn the whole thing into a joke.

"You are an incredible man, Lou Grant."

"If you say so."

"I'm glad things are even now," she said.

"Hmm?"

"You finally took your clothes off."

"I couldn't let myself get distracted before."

"Believe me, your single mindedness was amazing. There is only one problem."

"Oh?" he trilled.

"If you _**ever**_ wear that tie to the office again, I am going to be a complete wreck."

She kissed and touched him more earnestly now. Listening for what earned his approval. He let her seduce him, tease him until his voice caught with his urgent need of her. At last he moved over her and she welcomed him snug against her.

She was eager to feel him inside of her, yes. But suddenly what she desperately wanted was to please him. To see that in his face. To be the one to give him that.

When had this happened, she wondered, as she stroked his cheek? It felt like a conversion. A devotion.

"It's not just about the sex, you know that," she whispered with obvious emotion.

"I know," he assured her, just as solemnly.

He teased at her while he kissed her shoulder. Her hand at his hip pulled at him. "Please," she told him.

And she got what she needed when he finally came apart at her urging. Her name on his lips.

/ / / / / / /

_A/N: just one more chapter to go!_


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N: No warnings other than heavy sentiment ahead. _**

/

Lou woke to her thrashing lightly. It was a nightmare, he knew.

And instinctively, he pushed most of the covers off her as he called her name. He understood what it was to wake up in a sweat, to feel claustrophobic for no reason. Some nights he had needed to be on his feet as soon as he was awake as if moving could push the things away. And blankets in the way didn't help.

"Thank you," she said once her head had cleared a bit. She felt cooler now. Less confined. She took a few deep breaths.

"Do you want to tell me?"

"I don't really remember all of it, just that I was back in jail. And I wasn't getting out."

He rested his hand lightly on her chest. "Your heart is racing," he told her sympathetically.

She nodded. And then found herself apologizing.

"Don't," he said. "Really, Mary. I'm up for the bad, as well as the good. I'd rather this happened with me here than when you were alone."

"Do you get nightmares?"

"There was a time when it was bad," he confessed quietly. "War stuff. It's never gone, I guess. But it almost never happens any more."

"I'm sorry," she told him gently.

"Hey, I'm okay. How are you?" he said trying to deflect her concern.

"Hold me," she told him.

"Anytime. Anytime at all," he assured her.

They settled on their sides with him behind her. His arm lay lightly across her chest.

"And if you needed me..." she said. She turned in his arms to face him then. "If you _**ever **_needed me, I'd want to be there."

"I know," he whispered.

/ / / / / / /

The next morning, the breakfast dishes were cleared. And she was on her way back from the kitchen.

He pushed out his chair and caught her hand as she tried to pass by.

"Come here," he implored her. He pulled on her gently until he had gotten her to sit astride him.

"Could it be like this? Us?" she asked after a long quiet and a few kisses.

"Yes," he said, quite simply and seriously. He smiled then. "Well, but not every night. Because I'm getting to be an old man, Mary," he quipped.

"This..." she said giving him a shake from his lapels. "I am trying to tell you I like this. Us, together."

"I know," he conceded. "I like it, too. But, ah, hey... I don't want you to take this the wrong way but..."

"What?"

"I hate your bed.. sofa...thing."

She laughed, having feared any of a thousand other problems.

"Move in with me, Mary," he said suddenly, but very earnestly.

"What?"

"Rhoda and Phyllis aren't here any more. There's nothing to keep you here. And every reason for you to be with me."

"You're serious," she managed to say.

"I'm serious, Mary. We've been friends for years. We're good together. We're compatible in that way those women's magazines are always mentioning," he told her with a grin he could not hide.

She smacked his arm.

"What will your daughters say? Or your grandkids?" she demanded.

"Oh, they'll just say 'Grandpa got lucky.'" He said this a tad too proudly for Mary.

"Be serious."

"Just think about it, Mary," he implored her.

She dropped her head to his shoulder a long while. And when she looked back up to gaze around the apartment, she saw what little there was there to call a real life. And she weighed that against how incredible it felt to have his arms around her.

"We can try it," she said.

"We can _**do**_ it, Mary. You'll see."


End file.
